White Collar, White Mask
by MrTrojanHorse
Summary: "Who'd ever thought I'd ever fall in love? Much less with the enemy. Life really is full of surprises." - Greg, White Mask militant Ela x OC pairing. Rating may go up due to smut. Currently T for language and violence.
1. 1

Ever heard the phrase 'Love at first sight?' What comes to your mind? Two people meeting in a bar and they just sorta click? Or someone you lock eyes with on a bus stop and you just knew it deep down she's the one for you so you man up, stride up to her and everything goes well from there? Well not for me sir, nope. The woman I fell for tried to put a bullet in my head, but to be fair I tried to do the same to her. That's what happens to everyone on opposite sides of a war. Even worse when I was on the wrong side. By now you probably woulda' guessed which side I'm on and correcto-mundo, I was a part of the White Masks. Scared? Nah don't be. You're probably right now be like 'omg you're one of those terrorists!' Or 'You killed all those people! You murderer!' I've even heard 'Someone should line you up against a wall and shoot you!' Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Whatever.

You're entitled to your opinions. I'm fine with you've got against me. I've had people come up to me and tell me I might as well join ISIS, considering the atrocities we committed were somewhat similar. I'm like, what? Seriously, ISIS and the White Masks were two extremely different organizations with different agendas! Plus we carried out way more complex missions The only similarity we shared was our usage of terror on the general population. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a rag on my head no offense to my fellow muslim readers, yall are cool. Respect to you guys.

Yes, the people I worked with did try to topple multiple governments across the globe and nearly succeeded. Yes, we murdered a lot of innocent folks but let me just say that I didn't like it, hell, all of us were against it. But it was a sacrifice we were willing to do to give these goddamn beauracrats a wake up call, to stop screwing with our lives, our tax money, our future. The rich just got richer and the poor got poorer, nobody gave a shit to the lower middle class, we were the undesirables, the unwanted. Justice? No, that word doesn't exist here and if we wanted something we had to claw our way up to the top. We were ordinary people, everyday joes like you trying to make a living in a brutal and indecent world. At the time, we weren't thinking straight, we were angry we wanted justice against the system so badly we used the language, the only language actually, that the world could understand.

Terror.

Do I still believe in the cause the White Masks propagated? Yes. Peace and prosperity. Simple yet frickin' powerful words. But I've long past let go of the sword in favour of the pen as they say. I've got my own commitment and respoinsibilities to fulfil so sad to say my fight's over. Maybe if any of you readers with a fire your belly and the intellect to match are willing to take up the mantle and fight for us lower middle class folks, I applaud you. But for the record, what justification did we have for murdering innocent people? It was a form of liberation. The people are sheep, were sheep, slaved to follow the whims of the powerful and wealthy. Death was an act of release for them. Note this was in the past, I've long moved on from the notion of violent confrontations nor do I support it.

Right, back to where we were. My first meeting with my other half happened in a bar. This was before we learned of each other's profession.

2017.

It was Friday. Just got off from my day job and I decided let loose a little before my 'night shift' starts. By day I'm a faceless white collar closing books and sending reports to my general manager. By night, I was a white masked freedom fighter packing toxins into crates to shipped off into various parts of the globe.

Huh, come to think of it, my double life sounds poetic. White collar, white mask.

Anyways, I enter the place, the aircon greeting me with that rush of stinging cold and I remember a local band singing that Maroon 5 song. The one that goes 'say-say-say-hey-hey-hey-now baby'. Local talent needs support man, those guys were good. You couldn't tell the difference between their lead and Adam Levine. I sat on one of their empty couches, a glass of tequila and lime in one hand, my phone in the other. Scrolling, through my whatsapp, I spot this green haired babe from the corner of my eye enter the fray. Shoulder length hair, a cap of all things with neon blue headphones hanging off her neck. Dark leggings and a denim jacket, yeah I remember what she wore. Cute? Hell yeah she was. On a whole, she's a solid '8'. She began chatting it up with the bartender, they seemed like good friends. My eyes were fixed on her, like a hawk eyeing its prey and all I could think of was to walk up and 'score'.

Now, see when a man gets infatuated he can't think straight but damn if it doesn't make you self conscious. You think if your hair's okay, do you reek of B.O and alcohol, is your face oily and pretty much your entire self worth is being scrutinised. I watched from behind the scene as guys literally line up to have a go at her. When she rejects one, another would come up to her. I frowned, some of those guys looked like greek gods compared to me. Man, I'm way in over my head but lemme tell you something. I'm busting my ass with the higher ups in my day job for the next paycheck, I come back late at night sore and aching from all that milsim training so a little rejection can't be as bad as the double life I lead, besides it will be a good experience, you're 25, single and a virgin. 'You're not getting any younger' as I told myself.

My expectations of first contact was that I would smoothly, and I say smoothly slide to the chair next to her buy her a drink and things hit it off straight away. But fuck me, what really happened was some meathead stole the seat I was headed for and practically left me standing so close to both of them I could hear their conversation. Also, it made me feel like a third wheel so pardon me if I felt like swallowing cyanide in that moment. I decided to sit further from the two and nearer to the band. 15 minutes of chilling and she stands up and brushes the Big Show lookalike off, great she's probably sick of this place and leaving. But she joins a table with a group of people instead. Colleagues? Maybe.

"Can I get you something?" Bartender's standing in front of me, wiping an already polished looking glass. What the heck, sure.

"Bacardi, on the rocks." He takes the cash and makes the stuff. As I take small sips, my head glances towards the green haired mystery girl.

"Shoulda' taken your chance man, you blew it," he hums while wiping another glass.

"Yeah guess so." I frown. Eavesdropping prick.

"Something on your mind? Wanna share?" I shake my head. What advice can he give? I already know my strengths and weaknesses.

"Hey, us bartenders make good listeners and give sound advice. Comes with the trade, besides, its on the house." Okay that got me chuckling. Alright, fine.

"Just, thinking of missed opportunities."

"By that you mean Ela?"

Ela? I thought it was a pet name. Adorable too "Ela? The-" I pause, should I say girl? Chick? Babe?

"The one with the green hair, yeap," the bartender sets aside the glass and picks up another to polish. The guy's freaking nuts, he probably has OCD about cleanliness or wiping tables and glasses. I wonder what happened to him, its been almost six years since I last saw him.

"How do you know all this?" Seriously.

"Easy, we talked. You have no idea how much a woman would appreciate in finding a man whose not interested in getting into their pants at first sight. She's real friendly and easy going once you get past her cold demeanor. Hell, I thought she was a punk when I first saw her here."

"She come here often? What does she work as?"

"I dunno, didn't ask. In a week I'd see her about two times? Sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month. She must be a real busy person."

Okay, this guy's a jackpot of information.

"Sounds like it. I can relate,"

"Then you should go talk to her." I chuckle. Seriously? You think I haven't been trying to do that? Jeez.

"Well I would if only the Gods of Mount Olympus would stop bugging the pretty handmaiden," he stopped cleaning the glass and let out a laugh that sounded like throaty gurgle. "And why would you be telling me all this? Aren't you trying to score with her too?"

He shakes his head, ditches the already polished glass and grabs another from the rack. His left hand shows me a silver ring on his finger.

"Married, bro. Got a kid on the way too,"

Oh.

"Oh, wow congratz. I..I didn't know. But, your wife? She okay with you doing all this?"

"Interacting with people? Of course. I love my job and she understands it, I'm a social creature. Bartending duties aside I get to meet with all sorts of people from all walks of life. It's not always about the passion or the paycheck for me but the people you meet."

"I see, well-"

"Speaking of missed opportunities, here's a new one for you," he nods to the person standing behind me.

Ela.

I nearly went into cardiac arrest right then and there. I didn't hear her approaching and the music's already stopped, the band took a break.

We locked eyes for a second before I turned away.

"Harold," she smirks, her Russian accent very prominent as she rolls the 'R' in Harold the bartender's name. She plants a fist on her porcelain colored chin s she takes the seat beside me.

"Back for more drinks Ela?" Harold sniffs and set aside the glass he'd been working on.

"Vutka, iced. See you've made a new friend," she gave me a sideways glance and curl her lips in a friendly smile. Okay, she acknowledges my existance. I raise a hand and return the smile. But inside oh man I was boiling and not in anger. Her accent's sexay as hell.

Still is.

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Right here you go."

When I saw her taking out her wallet, I beat her to the punch by sliding out a 10 dollar bill to Harold. He gave me a wink and keeps the cash.

She turns at me with an annoyed look.

"You didn't have to do that, I can pay for my own things." She snaps, startling me. Oh wow, and here I thought she'd be appreciative of the gesture. Turns out otherwise and I wasted ten bucks. But then again, she must be sick of all those guys trying to buy her a drink when all she probably wanted was to chill.

"Whoa," I try to diffuse the situation. "I'm just trying to be friendly. I mean, Harold here told me-"

"You two were talking about me behind my back!?" Oh boy. Things are gonna get ugly.

Harold raises his arms in mock surrender. "Hey don't blame me, he asked," she glares right back at me.

"Who are you?" Wow, she does have an icy demeanor.

"Um, Greg. And to clear the air, Harold here was just telling me about the mystery woman aka you. I mean I've never seen you here before, nothing bad or anything I was just curious." I babble.

She sighs cursing in a foreign language. I take the opportunity to add on.

"Sounds Russian, you from uh-"

"Poland," she downs half the glass in a gulp.

"Oh, no wonder. Sounded real Slavic so I just assumed," Her eyes perk up at my response her body language rekaxes. Was that a good sign? I think so.

"Not bad, you're familliar with proper racial terms,"

"Ah, big fan of history. You?"

"No. Cannot say I am. But I apologize for being rude,"

"Oh no no no, its alright. You must be real sick of guys coming up to you for your number, or something similar,"

She nods and wave a finger, "Yes, very true. Everywhere I go men bother me. Its annoying,"

"Well I can't blame them. You're absolutely gorgeous, what do you do when you're not chilling by the bar?"

She grins, unfazed by the compliment I gave. "I'm an art student."

No surprise there.

"Well that explains the jacket and the cap. But why art?"

She leans forward, probably more comfortable with me. That gave me a slight confidence boost. I can do this, I can do this!

"Art lets me express myself. My sister thinks its stupid though," she spat bitterly the last part.

"I don't. I think its great you're pursuing something you're passionate for but how will it help you financially?"

She waves a hand off, "I've got it figured it out. Don't worry. You know, Greg, we got off on a bad start, I'm Elzbieta. You can call me Ela."

Elzbieta. Like Elizabeth.

"Greg. Nice to finally chat with you. Can I call you Elz?"

"Sure." My phone decided to spoil whatever it was we had going on by buzzing in my pocket.

"Ah shit, one moment Elz," she didn't say much but decided to sip her iced Vodka. I frowned upon looking at the caller ID. It was Miles, my commander and he never calls unless shit hits the fan.

"Greg here,"

"Its Miles. Listen, one of the head masks has called for an emergency meeting at the warehouse. I need you and the rest of the team here by 2030 hours."

I look at my watch, oh shit its almost 8pm. "Alright, I'll be there. Any idea what this'll be about?"

There was a pause at the end of the line. "One of our hideouts in New York was raided an hour ago."

"Huh? W-what!?"

"You heard me, last report sent from Trojan Wing stated a spec ops team infiltrated the place and shot up the guards, haven't heard anything since. We're assuming all hands lost and the hideout compromised."

"Oh fuck,"

"Yeah. Listen, get over here in 30 minutes. We've got a long night ahead of us. Oh and watch your back, make sure you're not being followed."

"Alright, seeya."

I stare at my phone in disbelief. What the hell, our operations were damn near untraceable! Somebody must have fucked things up. I look at Ela with an uneasy look.

"Something wrong, Greg?"

"Er yeah, something cropped up at home. I gotta go, its been nice talking to you Elz, I wish we could talk more. Underneath that ice queen attitude, you're a real gem."

Ela smirks and slides a piece of paper towards me. On it were a bunch of numbers scribbled. Could it be? Oh my god did I just score?

"Here's my number. Maybe we can meet in the day for coffee instead," a smile lit up my face. Oh my god. Yes!

"Yeah, coffee sounds good. Okay gotta go," I grabbed my bag and sling it. "See ya!"

She waves and goes back to her drink. On my way out, I catch her friends eyeing me with suspicion.

Hmm...pfft who cares!

Holy shit, I nabbed the big one man! Feeling's like...over the moon or some shit. If only I knew how much trouble this little minx was gonna get me into.


	2. 2

If you'd asked me back then, what did the White Masks stood for? What was our endgame? I'd say two things as I've mentioned earlier.

The first, peace in this world; no more resource wars, no backroom deals, no more unnecessary intrusions into the middle east and secondly was prosperity for all. We wanted a world filled with responsible leaders who'd in turn foster responsible citizens. But in order to achieve that, alot of people were going to die.

Humanity's history has always been written in blood. Sad to say but its true. Even though we'd like to delude ourselves as superior, intelligent and "civilised" creatures, the ugly truth that nobody wants to admit is that homo sapiens, human beings harbor an extremely dangerous capacity for violence. We've simply evolved from murdering one another with clubs to outright extermination with the push of a button. In the words of the biologists, we're simply over-glorified apes.

The liberty, egalite, fraternaty crap the French so selflessly flaunt about? That came only after the French Revolution and the Reign Of Terror. Hell, our country's independence itself could be argued to have been brought forward by rebellious militia, who without a doubt would be condemned as terrorists by modern day standards.

If the world leaders weren't willing to get off their high horses and fix poverty, crime and pollution then the enlightened ones would have to do it for them with a heavy hand.

But now, if you'd ask me the same question, I'd hang my head in shame and tell you the White Masks were a symptom. A symptom of injustice and corruption spread by those in power until the oppressed themselves become the oppressors. A self-destructive cycle that leaves no winners.

Contrary to what you've been fed from the government, the White Masks weren't entirely comprised of Americans despite our origins here in the United States. We recruited members from across the globe, anyone was welcome to join so long as they had the heart to do whatever that was necessary to achieve our end goal. Some of our members were powerful men of influence sympathetic to our cause and thanks to their funding, we formed a large international network between various cells and this made it easy for us to move weapons, ammunition and manpower around. There's a reason we wore those masks, to show that we were endless, faceless and relentless in pursuit of our goals.

The very definition of an unknown quantity.

But if you must ask, why the color white? Nobody knows, that answer lies with the founder of our organization. The late Jeremiah Scott. Though many suspect he was simply paying homage to the character 'V'.

October 23rd 2017 marked the first major conflict between the White Masks and Team Rainbow Six.

The day after I've just met Ela.

The meeting I rushed off to dragged all the way till 1am, can you believe that? The commanders enacted contingency plans, all sorts of fuckshit countermeasures that I've never seen or heard of before.

But to give you the gist, all of our operations overseas were effectively severed, they were still White Mask yet were ordered to function independently in order to create the hydra effect; cut off one head and two more pop up. This is to ensure the organization's survival overseas until the order is given for the remaining cells to rejoin the main body. But here in the mainland, we continue functioning as one unit. Whenever a hideout or key installations were raided, any powerbase within 50 klicks were to immediately reinforce and move the contents to a more secure location. Surrender was not an option and each member was given a cyanide pill to bite on should the possibility of being captured was very high.

I still have the cyanide pill locked away in my room's safe. To remind me how close I was to taking my own life in order protect the White Mask's interests. Though my wife disagrees with me having that thing in the house, I've assured her its simply a momento of my past life. Nothing more.

Some of the men in the White Masks were veterans from the military and every single one of them saw action in the middle east. They were the pioneers that laid the bedrock for our combat training. After all, you can't take a disgruntled office worker and turn him into a professional killer based on books and theory alone, you needed solid groundwork and these guys did their jobs real well. Too well, might I say. Just dig into the news archives and see how hard we raped the cops. There were times we even wiped out entire SWAT teams though they hushed it all up.

Bad for morale.

Our trainers were mostly ex-Army troopers and Marines. We do have our own rag tag commando teams. A mismatch outfit filled with ex-special forces. MARSOC, Green Beret, SEALS, you name it. These men were patriots who'd bled for God and Country, men who had comrades, brothers die in their arms in the field of battle and still carried through. Men who gave all they had but were cast aside like used condoms once their usefulness had run its course. Society shunned them while the government turned a blind eye as these helpless and now jobless men of war rotated back into the world. How many militant groups out there can boast such an impressively well armed, well funded and well trained fighting force? None.

When I got back into my apartment it was already 2.30. Sun doesn't rise in 2 hours. I charged my phone, toss my clothes in the laundry basket, shower and slept. I remember dreaming about Ela that night, same scene at the bar, same conversation only...it ended up going well as how I'd imagined it to be. Course my wife doesn't believe me when I told her later on in our marriage. After all, it was just a dream.

The next morning? Well the morning passed by uneventfully. I woke up at 10, cooked me some eggs, my wife says I'm a terrible cook by the way, I gulped a glass of orange juice and hooked up with some of my White Mask colleagues up on StarCraft. Yeah, us "terrorists" lead somewhat mundane, simple lives. Like what I said earlier, we're your everyday folk turned professional killers under bad circumstances. I'd like to use this moment here to make an announcement here. Fuck all of yall Protoss players and your fucking death ball and lets not forget your fucking A-move bullshit.

It was shortly after lunch as I hauled my dirty laundry off for a wash, a piece of paper fell offa my shirt pocket. My heart skipped a beat.

Holy shit. I nearly sent my chances with Ela down the drain. Literally!

I zipped to the couch and unlocked my phone. As I keyed in her number a sense of dread entered my gut. What if, it was a fake number? I should have given her a missed call at least before leaving the bar last night. Just being realistic here, we're still strangers at the end of the day, neither truly knows what the other is capable of. Oh man, you have no idea how true that phrase is.

Anyways I was real glad it was her real number. How do I know? Simple, you check her whatsapp photo man, sure enough it was a selfie of her...with a submachine gun and a grey camo jacket. Its a Scorpion EVO, I know that now but back then it I just coined it an SMG; short length, short barrel, dead giveaways. Ela's a gun enthusiast, okay, that came as a surprise to me. There's clearly more to her than meets the eye.

I don't have much today aside from my "night shift" which starts at midnight. I think we were gonna learn how to rig and prime IEDs or was it hacking basic softwares. So I just decided to pop a seemingly harmless text. Prod and probe, see if she's still receptive and see where things go from there. There's a new cafe downtown I saw in the cab on my way back from my day job, perfect place for a test run.

Me (12:47): Hey Elz, remember me? That guy you nearly murdered in the bar xD

There. Was it cheesy? Lame? Too..plain? I dunno, I've never texted a stranger opposite sex before so all this was new to me. Hmm, I think I decided to watch a Netflix series while waiting for her reply.

Ela (12:51): Hey, of course ;)

Umm...okay, contact has been established. Now what?

Me (12:52): Awesome. You know I was half expecting a fake number ahaha jk

Her (12:52): O_o omg nooo, I'm not that evil ;P

Me (12:53): No, really I was thinking this buff black guy's gon reply stuff like nigga who you but glad to know you're the real deal.

Her (12:53): Ahahaha

Me (12:53): So you know there's a new cafe I saw open up. I'm eager to try out their menu. Need someone to help out with a lil tasting and I was thinking you cos you said about meeting for coffee. Wanna come?

I gave a frown, was the message too long? A few advices given to me long ago back in College was that girls hate long text. Did I just shoot myself in the foot? Would she percieve it as a date and try to weasel her way out of this? Lots of paranoid shit ran through my head. Gimme a break guys I was a newbie back then, don't judge me. Come to think of it, I did wanted to make it a date between us. Get to know her better, enjoy the scenery, the coffee. And then...

Ela (12:54): Sorry, I'm busy now. Can we meet later after 5?

Holy fricken shit! Jackpot! I decided to waste some time first, smoke a cigarette, add finishing touches to that report due on Monday, don't want her to think me as some desperate creep hounding after the next text.

Me (13:27): Sure, and this time you'll get to pay for your own coffee :p

Ela (13:31): Ahahaha

To keep it simple I sent her the address and we planned to meetup at 6. Was it still too late for coffee? I dunno I mean technically people drink that stuff to keep em up at night so...yeah. I spent the next 4 hours napping, then continued some ranked matches, again, fuck all yall Protoss players and then freshened up for my very first date.

Before I left the house, Miles sent me a text reminding me to be at the warehouse by midnight. Jeez, work doesn't start in 6 hours I'm telling you the guy's a workaholic! Maths teacher cum part time boy scout instructor by day, and well you know what he does at night. Even worse as a local commander he handles most of the meetings, the documents and handling of manpower. How he juggles all that hectic shit and keep his wife and kids away from his dark life, I will never know. And here I admit that I loved that guy, no homo. Sad to say he's dead now. He may be just another terrorist to you readers but he was the man everyone who knew him looked up to when shit hits the fan and he went out in a blaze of glory. It was painful watching him take one for the team and it haunts me still.

I look forward to telling his glorious final moments very soon. As it was before I sidetracked in my story, I had a date to catch and coffee to try out.


End file.
